


The Cat Came Back

by pebbles1971



Series: Whiskers [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Animal Transformation, Cat John Sheppard, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting over bullying, M/M, McKeller is just a blip, People can change (and not just into cats), Ronon crochets, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbles1971/pseuds/pebbles1971
Summary: Sequel to my oh-so-daft fic Puss in Combat Boots. John Sheppard is occasionally a cat. He's also trying very hard to treat Rodney better. Will Rodney ever forgive him for all that season three bullying, or will he fall for the wiles of the perky blonde who liked him better with a parasite in his brain?
Relationships: Jennifer Keller/Rodney McKay, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Whiskers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152938
Comments: 24
Kudos: 50





	The Cat Came Back

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers throughout seasons four and five. Ends post-canon.
> 
> Thanks to notennufcaffeine for beta and the hilarious commentary (which was funnier than the fic). Thanks to my favourite headscritcher for beta, title suggestion and general encouragement/enabling.

Rodney let himself sink a little closer to the sleeping form nestled into him. The other occupant of his bed rarely stayed overnight, but the sun was well up and getting him back home without being seen was going to be tricky. Rodney looked at the sleeping form and was struck by his simple beauty – from his pointy ears down his sleek body and handsome face. He reached out, stroking behind those pointy ears and then back into the scruffy hair at the back of his neck. He got a happy little murmur for his troubles, but his companion only settled in more determinedly against his side.

If the wrong people found out that Colonel John Sheppard spent most nights sleeping with the very male Chief Science Officer, incorrect conclusions would inevitably be drawn. Rodney felt a stab of compassion for the man he mostly disliked.

And, with a side-order of cognitive dissonance that he was entirely used to by now, he looked down at the form snuggled against him with nothing but affection.

‘Come on, you, we need to get you home. I think I have a box somewhere . . .’

Two hazel eyes opened slowly and looked at him with silent judgement. Then, their owner stood up on the bed, gave a lazy stretch and climbed onto Rodney’s chest, immediately curling into a determined ball right in the middle of his torso.

Rodney chuckled as he stroked the sleek, silky, feline body. John’s cat-form was the size of a largish housecat and, like the human version, all lean muscles, fluid grace and beauty. Not forgetting the predictably scruffy hair that never seemed to lay right and was somewhere awkwardly in between short and long.

As well as being undeniably cuter than his human counterpart, the cat version of Sheppard didn’t bully Rodney. Although to be fair, it had been a long time since the Colonel had bullied him. He was in no hurry to trust the man, though.

The cat, however, had been Rodney’s greatest solace for the last year or so.

‘This isn’t like you, Mr Tom, what’s got into you?’ He hadn’t been able to bring himself to change his companion’s name when he found out the cat’s alias. He saw the two as separate entities, but now, despite himself, he felt a stab of worry for Sheppard. Was he okay? Rodney recognised the man had a deep well of unmet needs, but the cat seemed uncharacteristically mopey today. He stroked around the cat’s head and was rewarded by the cat pinning his hand down and giving it a thorough wash.

That was new, too.

Rodney had always been glad the cat couldn’t talk, because nothing that came out of the Colonel’s mouth was ever helpful. But there was a vulnerability in his cat-form that was ordinarily entirely absent. Sometimes Rodney fantasised about _this_ John being able to speak, and wondered what he might say.

But this was still John Sheppard. If he had the power of speech, Rodney very much doubted he would use it.

***

‘Hey. I, uh, heard what happened. I'm very sorry,’ Rodney said awkwardly when he dropped in on human-form John some hours later. The other man was packing, presumably to head back to Earth for his father’s funeral. He’d been given precious little notice and that had to hurt – being in another galaxy didn’t really explain how late the news had come through.

‘Thanks,’ John said evenly.

Rodney stepped closer, suddenly wanting to . . . well, _comfort_ the man in front of him who looked so lost.

‘You OK?’ he asked, feeling completely inadequate.

‘Yeah, I'm fine,’ John said. The liar.

‘You know, I requested to go back with you, but the Ancient device at M7G-677 is malfunctioning.’ Sam had looked at Rodney askance when he’d made the request. She knew full well everything was not exactly rosy between him and the Colonel, but Rodney had asked on impulse, still full of concern for how sad and clingy the cat version of Sheppard had been that morning.

‘That the planet with all the kids?’ the Colonel said, as if he wasn’t changing the subject.

‘Yeah,’ Rodney replied, pulling a face. He wasn’t entirely sure, to be fair, that hanging out with Cleya and Casta would be so much worse than dealing with an emotionally constipated, grieving Lt Colonel, but he was oddly certain where he wanted to be, and it unsettled him.

‘Well, that should be fun for you,’ Sheppard said, studiously keeping the focus off himself.

‘Yeah, well, believe me, I'd get out of it if I could, but without the E.M. field they're an easy target for the Wraith. I guess it's just bad timing.’ Rodney had tried to change the angle, but halfway through his sentence he realized he sounded more like he wanted to avoid the kids than that he gave a crap about John.

‘Hey, don't worry about it.’

An awkward silence ensued in which Rodney fought with himself, off-balance with his own feelings and at a loss how to manage John’s.

‘If you wanna . . .’ he reached out hesitantly, ‘. . . you know . . . talk or . . .’

‘Rodney. I'm fine.’ The Colonel’s lie was as obvious as it was a definitive signal that talking was _not_ going to happen. Rodney felt too much in response to this – relief, sure, but also _worry_ and sadness and the oddest urge to pull John into a hug, which he tamped down in disgust.

Rodney was in the control room waiting for his own dial-out when John dialed home. He looked so alone standing there with his back all tight, fingers clenched round the handle of the overnight bag at his side. Rodney felt a stab in his gut and tried to remember when he’d last eaten. He pulled out a powerbar from his pocket and tried to alleviate his sudden queasiness. Then Ronon stepped up beside John and Rodney felt such a flood of relief he had to hold onto the console for a second.

Huh. Maybe the animosity he felt towards the Colonel was finally wearing down.

*** 

A week later, a familiar form slunk into Rodney’s room, late at night, jumping up on his bed and nuzzling at his hand to be fussed.

‘You’re back, then,’ Rodney said, stating the obvious like a dimwit. ‘Look, I hope . . . I mean . . . I know we’re not exactly friends . . . But I do care, okay?’

John just purred and tipped over onto his back, demanding chest tickles. Rodney felt a wave of pure affection for the cat that made his heart go a little weird.

*** 

It had been the most intense two weeks of Rodney’s life. He’d delivered a baby and had a building dropped on him, and that wasn’t even the standout thing.

No, the weird part was, after the admittedly excruciating 12 days that John had been missing presumed lost, discovering John had been rescued by him, Dr Rodney McKay, giving up _25 years_ of his life to bring him home.

Oh, he told himself it had been to save Teyla, Ronon, Sam, Jennifer . . . but the knot in his gut told a different story. Standing at John’s bedside where he was still out from the surgery, Rodney knew if John hadn’t made it after all that . . .

 _Fuck_ it was like none of the other stuff mattered at all. Or rather, it mattered a lot but the man in front of him eclipsed everyone else. Rodney reached out a hand, running it through the disheveled hair that felt oddly familiar to his touch.

‘Oh no. Oh nononononono!’ Rodney felt a wave of panic as the truth hit him like a wraith stunner in the face. He pulled his hand away from John’s forehead and, lifting it to his mouth, bit down hard into his own flesh to try and snap himself out of it.

Which did no good whatsoever.

Then he fled.

‘Rodney?’ Jennifer said as he streaked past.

‘No time! I have to . . . emergency,’ he ground out nonsensically, without slowing. He didn’t stop until he’d reached his quarters. Certain he was about to be sick, he headed for the bathroom, where he found himself taking great gulps of air to fight the rising panic and nausea.

‘I can’t be! I _can’t._ ’

 _You can and you are_. An emphatic voice replied from some part of his head he did not admit to owning.

Rodney caught his wide-eyed reflection in the shaving mirror he’d stuck to the wall. He fixed himself with one of his best glares, and lifted his chin.

‘I’m Dr Rodney McKay! I’ve changed _time,_ I’ve conquered _physics_. I am not going to let myself be brought down by stupid, idiotic, _feelings_ that make no sense at all!’

 _You gave up 25 years of your life because you’re in love with John Sheppard._ The inner voice was indefatigable.

‘Well, so what if I am?’ Rodney tried a different tack. ‘It’s just stupid chemicals. I can make it go away. It doesn’t have to mean anything!’

_He persuaded a man to kill himself for you. There must be something there on his side._

‘Oh yes, very reassuring. The ambiguous and quite terrifying feelings of a closeted military _killer._ Who, have we not forgotten, is also the asshole jock who bullied me?’

_You’ve seen another side of him._

‘When he’s a _cat_! That’s hardly the basis for a relationship!’

_You put a wall up between you and the man._

‘For good fucking reason! Listen up, McKay. Feelings like this end in _disaster._ If he’d go there at all he’s the type to give you an aggressive fuck and like as not lash out after. You’re _soft._ You’re a _cuddler._ There’s a reason you don’t do guys even though they’re objectively hotter – they’re all hard-as-nails and they treat guys like you like shit. So don’t. Go. There.’

_You want him and he probably wants you._

‘For fuckssake shut up!’ Rodney said, just stopping himself from punching his own reflection. His face stared back, looking wild-eyed and a tad unhinged.

‘Oh, crap. I’m finally losing it. I’ve gone full Sméagol!’

Rodney realised there were tears in his eyes and he reflected that it had been a very intense fortnight and after all, who wouldn’t be overwrought? John was a teammate and had been thought lost. And then he was found, and then he was injured . . . and anyway, when had Rodney last slept?

‘I need sleep. And I’m going to wake up in the morning and all this will be back in proportion and I won’t be in some horrific reenactment of High School where I’m crushing on the jock who only knows me as someone to give a hard time.’

_You’re in love with John Sheppard. Deal with it._

*** 

Rodney dealt with it by solving the problem technologically. John’s cat-form was clearly a gateway drug to mooning over the Colonel, so Rodney would simply get the cat out of his bed in order to get the man out of his head. Perfect logic.

So once John was out of the infirmary, he tinkered with the door crystals to get the door to stay shut to anyone but him under all circumstances, and retired for a good night’s sleep.

A little after the 25th hour, he heard a little ‘brrrowrrr’ at the door, but he just pulled a pillow over his head and ignored the sound.

‘MMMMRRRRROOOOOOWWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!’ came the cat’s voice.

Rodney’s heart was breaking but he _would not_ give in.

The damn cat gave a pair of mating Siameses a run for their money, keeping it up for a good hour. Rodney tried to listen to music to drown him out, but it really wasn’t working. He was just about to give in when finally, _finally_ it stopped.

Rodney tried to ignore how bereft that made him feel, or how fitfully he slept without his companion.

Around 4am he was woken by the sound of a squall outside – a gale was whining past the windows and rain drummed on the window, ending any chance of sleep. Rodney felt miserable and alone. Ejecting the stupid cat had just increased his desire to run knocking on John Sheppard’s door.

Who was probably sound asleep and over it already, he thought bitterly.

The wind was really wailing, and Rodney knew he was losing it now because he could hear something like the echo of the cat’s cries on the howling wind.

In fact, that sounded more and more like the crying of a very unhappy animal, and that just took Rodney back to the plaintive cry outside his door and he considered putting music back on and also trying not to cry.

THUNK!

Something banged dully on his window, making Rodney startle. He peered out into the early morning gloom and was shocked to see a bedraggled, angry face staring back at him, ears flattened, dripping wet, mouth open in a barely audible cry.

‘What the ever-loving fuck, John Sheppard?’ Rodney’s apartment was a hundred feet up and he _knew for a fact_ there was no way onto his balcony. He opened the doorway and the cat streaked in. Braving the horrific weather, Rodney peered out into the gloom to figure out how his persistent little friend had arrived on his balcony. He blanched when he saw the 4cm ledge that ran along the side of the building, with terrifying protruding buttresses at intervals along it. The public balcony the cat must have started from was over a hundred metres away.

He turned and looked at the cat, who was dripping all over the floor and looking miserable.

‘You ridiculous creature! Do you realise how easily you could have died?’ his voice was panicked and shrill. ‘And how would I have explained the naked corpse of Atlantis’ Military Commander smashed to jam beneath my balcony?’

The image that went with that thought was too much for Rodney. He fled to the bathroom, his nausea finally getting the better of him. He didn’t puke, just pressed himself back against the cold wall and hyperventilated for a solid five minutes. When he’d finally pulled himself together, he grabbed a towel and returned to his bedroom.

Only to find a sodden wet cat curled up right in the middle of his bed.

‘Oh you reprobate!’ he grumbled, but the poor puss was shivering and Rodney lost the heart for a rant. He scooped the soggy moggy up in the towel and roughly dried him until the bedraggled creature became a tousled, grumpy fluffball.

‘What were you thinking? Jesus, John . . .’

It was the first time he’d ever called the cat by his human name, and it served to mark the fact that Rodney was ever more screwed. The cat was so cold to the touch and shaking in his arms that Rodney began to worry. He got it as dry as he could, then moved his bedding round to avoid the wet patch and slid under the covers, still holding the miserable feline in his arms.

‘I guess you’d better snuggle under with me,’ Rodney said, sounding resigned but clinging to the little form somewhat desperately, unsure if he ever wanted to let him go.

His heart was in a mess; he had never felt so utterly, completely screwed in his life.

***

Rodney was used to finding Ronon unfathomable, but this particular late night visit to his quarters bearing questionable substances was more confusing than usual.

‘You said you weren’t sleeping,’ Ronon clarified, to explain having just offered Rodney a little plastic baggy of some greyish powdered substance.

‘What, are you my dealer?’ Rodney eyed the goods suspiciously.

‘Rodney. It’s tea.’

‘Oh.’

He still had it analysed by botany, who pronounced it “indistinguishable from valerian root” and gave him the go-ahead to imbibe it. The resulting drink smelled of old socks, but miracle of miracles, he managed to get the first good night’s sleep since he saw John Sheppard’s corpse on the floor of the dimension-hopping alt-Daedalus.

Yes, he’d seen his own corpse too, and that was weird. And it hurt to see Teyla and Ronon. But the look and the ice-cold feel of John’s dead skin was getting in his head in ways he didn’t want to examine.

It had also been a while since Rodney saw the cat. And okay, maybe that added to the not-sleeping but it was good, right? The damn creature had got the hint. It was for the best, despite the loneliness of his bed lately. He could move on and get over his foolish feelings.

Rodney didn’t examine too closely the way he was going to bed later and later, leaving work after 25:00 most days, coming home, brewing a mug of the vile but effective tea and sending himself to sleep by reading the most boring papers he saved for just such occasions.

Tonight, or rather this morning, he’d excelled himself - it was 2am and he’d been faffing with nothing much at all in the lab for the last three hours. He got back to his room and immediately dropped the tablet he was carrying, his heart stuttering in his chest. Right in the middle of his floor was the unmoving body of the cat, lying in the centre of a scattering of powdered valerian root and shredded plastic.

‘Oh no! What have you done?’ was valerian poisonous to cats? He rushed to the cat’s side and touched his cheek – it was warm, thank god, and the cat stirred a little at his touch. He half-opened his eyes and lolled lazily onto his back, rubbing his face into the valerian powder on the floor around him.

‘Oh my . . . you’re _stoned_ , aren’t you?’ Rodney said reproachfully. ‘I thought you were _dead_ and you’re just higher than a geostationary satellite!’ The cat looked suspiciously like he was grinning and wriggled some more in the mess he had made of Rodney’s tea stash.

‘And how am I going to explain to Ronon that I need more tea because his CO is sometimes a cat with poor impulse control?’ The cat just batted playfully at Rodney’s hand and then hooked it in towards him until Rodney had no choice but to grudgingly give chest tickles.

‘Seriously, John Sheppard - you need professional help. And apparently, so do I.’

The cat just purred happily.

***

Rodney woke from sleeping like a coma patient and within seconds of coming to consciousness found himself running through every scientific formula he had ever known, and recently forgotten. The terror of losing his mind still clung to him, alongside the not insignificant trauma of knowing his brain, his only asset worth mentioning, had been drilled into inside a filthy cave with only Home Depot supplies as surgical instruments.

‘Hey,’ a voice came from beside his bed, all soft kindness. Rodney opened his eyes to find John’s face reflected that energy – sweet and fond and gentle, he reminded Rodney more than a little of his cat-self when he was being scritched behind the ears.

Well, didn’t that just make Rodney’s panic ratchet up to a whole new level.

‘Hey,’ he replied, racking his brain to retrieve the lost conversations that he _knew_ happened between him and John these last two weeks, but couldn’t actually retrieve. He’d been Sheppard’s shadow the whole time, losing all the inhibitions that made him wary of the man. He couldn’t remember much but he could remember everything and everyone else falling away until John had been the only meaningful thing left in his world.

 _Oh god._ Rodney had the vaguest sense of uncensored words flowing out of his mouth and no doubt damning him.

And John . . . John had been _there_ for him. Had really come through. The one conversation he did remember from when he still had some marbles left, Rodney had told him he was a good friend, albeit deflecting the comment with a joke. And he’d _meant_ it. John really showed up for him. Maybe he’d been doing that for Rodney a while now. But _still_.

‘How’re you feeling?’ John asked.

‘Good. Better. Back to my old, bitter self. No longer acting like some drugged out, brainless hippy in love with the whole world,’ Rodney said, suddenly realising he had a way to do damage control.

‘Well, I’m glad,’ John said. ‘The niceness was weird. You weren’t you and I didn’t like it.’

 _Oh._ That was sweet, really, and it made Rodney’s chest swell. Still, time to deliver the Coup de Grace.

‘Did you know I told Jennifer I was in love with her?’ he said. ‘I don’t remember much, but that I do remember.’

‘I didn’t know that. Is it true?’ John’s face had suddenly become unreadable.

‘What? No . . . I like her but we’re not that close. I mean, I’d like to be. She’s a great girl with terrific . . . er, attributes, but that parasite had me one step away from declaring undying love to _Zelenka._ ’

‘Jennifer liked you better when you were sick, Rodney,’ John said, his voice dripping with resentment. ‘Doncha think maybe you could do better than that?’

The man had a point, and it sent flutters through Rodney to hear his care.

‘I’m not you, Sheppard. Women don’t fall at my feet all over the place. Keller actually seems to like me, even without a parasite in my brain, and that’s astonishing given that, as we all know, I’m petty, arrogant and bad with people.’

‘You’re selling yourself short, McKay.’ John sounded _really_ grumpy about it, and that just made Rodney’s hackles rise. Because Keller had just liked him being cheerful, which made total sense, and dating her was surely better than pining for the man that used to bully him? John may have changed, and maybe they were friends now, but Rodney had a right to keep his guard up.

‘People treat me like crap, Sheppard, and I probably deserve it. I’m not about to let a gorgeous woman who is clearly fond of me get away just because I was objectively nicer when there was a parasite eating my brain.’

‘No, Rodney. You don’t deserve it. And I wish I hadn’t been a part of making you feel like you did.’ John said sadly. He looked down at his feet, which were scuffing against each other almost of their own volition.

Rodney didn’t know what to say. He didn’t like John looking so sad, but on the other hand, any attempt to reach out would be a risk. The man may be indelibly associated with a house cat in Rodney’s mind, but he wasn’t a fool – at least not now Keller had drilled that critter out of his head. John Sheppard was deep-down feral at best, at worst a deadly predator.

‘Anyway, I gotta . . .’ the other man gestured vaguely towards the door and slipped away. His shoulders looked all hunched over in a way that despite himself made Rodney desperate to stroke the tension right out of him, but he shook away that feeling and focused on Jennifer Keller’s bright, pretty smile instead.

*** 

Rodney sat in the mess with Teyla and Ronon, noting John’s absence from their table _again._ It was getting to be a habit. Since the parasite, Sheppard just hadn’t been around as much, and the cat had been completely absent. When the Colonel did hang out with Rodney, it was always to goof around – like with those RC cars he’d bought, rather than any vaguely meaningful interaction.

Missing the cat was the hardest part, but soon enough (in the scheme of things) he had a stunning blonde in his bed. Or rather, he found his way into _hers_ , just in case the cat showed up at his and needed explaining. And Jennifer’s presence was so much better than a scruffy old cat that somehow managed to take up way more bedspace than another human ever could.

It absolutely was better to have Jennifer. Definitely. Without a doubt.

Teyla had Torren on her lap and was feeding him something gooey and disgusting-looking. Torren wasn’t entirely cooperating. Rodney marveled how the woman managed to still look dignified with food in her hair and across her right cheek.

Ronon was crafting yet another weird item of clothing – it tickled Rodney the way he still home-made everything he wore. In this case he was using some sort of crochet process to grow a brown wool overshirt. It was a bit rough and uneven, but Rodney suspected the man liked it that way. He seemed to be taking a lot of pride in getting it just the way he wanted it.

Every now and then Ronon would look up at Torren and smile and Torren would melt in the face of those big brown eyes, and then Teyla would take advantage of Torren’s distraction to shovel more food into him. This time, she gave Ronon a grateful smile, and Ronon reached up to her cheek and smoothed away the smear of food, catching the rest out of her hair as he pulled his hand back. Then, after wiping his hand on his pants, he returned thoughtfully to his crochet.

‘Oh, hey everyone,’ Jennifer’s voice came from across the mess as she joined the food queue, and Rodney noticed Ronon’s fingers tighten slightly on the wool he had threaded through his fingers. He didn’t look up, but sped up his stitches until he completed the row and then stood hastily.

‘I’ve got a . . . thing,’ he said gruffly, and strode off, after caressing Torren’s head affectionately and nodding to his team members.

Rodney suddenly felt a little queasy. Was Ronon still hurting over Jennifer? He hadn’t thought there’d been much of anything between them, but now he felt weirdly guilty as Jennifer settled into Ronon’s vacant seat and started cooing over baby Torren, letting Teyla pass him over to her so she could complete her clean-up.

As he watched Jennifer make all the right googoo noises with the baby on her lap, Rodney tried to make a picture in his head – himself, Jennifer, a couple of kids and a big old house in some leafy suburb or other.

‘Wanna hold him?’ Jennifer asked after some time, shaking Rodney out of his reverie. He looked at her expectant face and schooled the panic out of his own as he realised he was being tested. _Again_. He knew he didn’t quite match up to Jennifer’s expectations, but he also knew they both believed he could change – and that he needed to change. Trouble was, some of the ways in which she wanted him to change were pretty mysterious to Rodney.

He reached for baby Torren nevertheless and felt comforted by the warm bundle he was holding close. Torren seemed to like him, always settled in his arms. And he’d got to an interesting stage where he looked at the whole world with a kind of amazement that strongly resonated in Rodney – he wasn’t sure that feeling had ever fully left him. But Torren also looked at Rodney in particular with love and trust and that gave Rodney some very squishy feelings.

It was weird the way kids liked him in general when he was so damn awkward with them.

‘You are a natural with him, Rodney,’ Teyla said, ‘you should definitely have one of your own one day.’

‘Just as soon as he grows up himself, eh?’ Jennifer interjected, and Rodney felt his cheeks blaze.

She was probably right, of course, but “growing up” was such a broad category, and if he hadn’t managed to do that satisfactorily yet, what hope was there?

‘I do not think I understand,’ said Teyla, her voice polite. Only Rodney could catch her tells and recognise danger. Teyla was pissed. Huh.

‘Oh, well, erm . . . you know, boys will be boys and all that,’ Jennifer said inanely. Rodney wanted to shake her and tell her to be specific – tell him what to do!

‘I am unfamiliar with the meaning of that expression,’ Teyla said a little more coldly.

Jennifer looked thrown. She glanced at the time and explained, ‘oh golly, I’m late! Sorry I have to run.’

She pressed a kiss to Rodney’s cheek and stroked Torren’s hair.

‘Bye big fella, little fella!’ she said cheerily. ‘Teyla,’ she said in slightly more strained tones, nodding to the Athosian. And then she was gone.

‘Don’t be so hard on her, Teyla. She’s not wrong. I can be kind of childish,’ Rodney said to his friend after the other woman left.

‘You can be child _like_ , Rodney, and you look at the world differently from many, but I see that as a gift. You cannot be what you are not.’

‘But I can change. Have changed.’ Rodney protested.

‘You have changed a great deal my friend, and yet you are still you. And that is all you can be or need to be.’

Oof. That was hard to hear, because in his heart he knew that wasn’t enough for Jennifer. It felt like Rodney was doomed to like people who gave him a hard time.

‘Everyone treats me like I need to shape up, Teyla. And they’re probably right. I mean, look at how Sheppard treats me!’

‘It is interesting you mention John, Rodney. Is he still bullying you? I thought that was long past.’

‘Oh. Well, I suppose . . . but I thought we established people can’t change.’

‘I thought we established that people can and do _inevitably_ change. Just not to other people’s specifications.’

Rodney thought about that. Yes, he supposed he _had_ changed and so had Sheppard (and not just occasionally into a cat). But Rodney had been bullied a lot in his life. Letting his guard down with someone who bullied him . . . well, that was hard.

‘I don’t have to trust him . . . just because he’s kinder to me now, I’m allowed to still be wary.’

‘I do not disagree, Rodney, that lost trust is hard to win back,’ Teyla said. ‘Just so long as you aren’t hurting _yourself_ with the walls you create.’

‘Easy to say, but lowering them is a risk, no?’ Rodney protested.

‘Not always, no.’ Teyla countered. ‘I wonder what would earn your broken trust again?’

Rodney thought about that, and a torrent of memories came, unbidden. Sheppard saving his life. Being by his side when he was ill. Listening when he was upset.

For two years John Sheppard had been a true friend to him and maybe it was time to trust at least that much.

He didn’t go to Jennifer’s that night for the first time in weeks. When he sat down heavily on his bed, a small, muffled, grumbling mewl came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see nothing but the smooth duvet pulled neatly over his big pillows.

Huh. Was he imagining things? He checked the balcony, and the ledge, just in case, but they were equally empty. He checked under the bed, in the closet, the bathroom . . . nothing. Finally, he shrugged and lifted the duvet to get into bed.

And there, stretched out sausage-like in the shelter of his pillows, next to a trail of hair where he’d tunneled in, clearly more than once, was the cat.

Rodney managed to find a sliver of unoccupied bed in which to position himself, and reached to stroke the cat, who immediately responded with a happy purr.

‘I missed you,’ Rodney admitted, rubbing his cheek against the cat’s and then snuggling in for the night.

***

Life moved fast and before he knew what was happening, they were all standing on a balcony looking out at the Golden Gate Bridge and feeling bewildered.

Rodney’s insides were a churning mess. He’d seen Ronon die and come back, he’d heard Sheppard going on yet another suicide mission, and he’d come within seconds of ending his own and his team’s existence. And now he was back on Earth.

Not in the Pegasus galaxy.

And Jennifer was all cuddled up to his side and looking serene and a little relieved to be home, but Rodney just felt . . . _displaced._

There was something nagging at him, like that feeling you get when you forgot some important date.

He looked across at John and saw him standing alone and every shred of his being felt wrong. A powerful impulse told him that he should be at John’s side. That was where he belonged. Nothing else made sense.

Then Jennifer squeezed into him and he shook himself – what was he thinking? Why did he keep getting pulled back to his fatal fascination for John Sheppard? If the man was interested in him at all (doubtful), someone like that would have someone like Rodney for breakfast.

They were on _Earth._ He could take Jennifer to a swanky restaurant. Buy her a (decent) ring. All this craziness could be over.

He wiped a tear from his face and told himself the feeling was relief.

***

Just an hour after planetfall, Sheppard had lived up to his name and herded all senior staff into the conference room.

‘What’s this about, Colonel?’ Woolsey asked, looking more than usually grey-faced.

‘We need to go home, and we need to do it _now._ ’ John said simply, and something in Rodney vibrated in sympathy with his words.

‘We can’t very well do that without IOA and SGC approval,’ Woolsey responded. ‘There’s a lot to discuss.’

‘If we stay, we will be at the heart of a political clusterfuck for the next three years. Right now, _you’re_ in charge of Atlantis. Right up until a bunch of suits start to figure out how to deal with this new situation and put us in limbo forever.’

‘Oh god, you’re right,’ Rodney caught on to what John was saying. ‘Think about it, Woolsey, our presence here could turn the whole _planet_ upside down. And we’ll do no good at all. But you could absolutely justify the decision to turn around immediately and head home to avoid the political ramifications.’

It was just as natural to Rodney to call Pegasus _home_ but he had no time to ponder that.

‘Plus, we have a moral duty to the people of Pegasus – we cannae take Atlantis away with the wraith threat looming,’ Carson put in.

Woolsey steepled his fingers and tried that senior statesman look he was always working on. Rodney held his breath.

‘Very well. Colonel Sheppard, take her home.’

*** 

‘But it isn’t home.’ Jennifer’s voice was small as she looked wistfully out at the shrinking blue-and-green marble she had clearly thought they were being reunited with.

‘It is to me. I’m sorry Jennifer, but no. I won’t go back. Not now, and maybe not ever.’ Rodney couldn’t believe that, minutes after John had made a compelling case for their return to Pegasus (and really Rodney should be in the chair room watching over him while he flew them home, not here arguing with his girlfriend) Jennifer was suggesting they leave their jobs and return to Earth as soon as possible. He understood it was hard not to have had some time back on their planet of origin, but this seemed like a massive overreaction.

She would probably get over it. He should probably just put a stop to this stupid bicker and get to Sheppard. He could feel his impatience rising up. He just wanted to get away, get to John.

‘We could be happy there. We could make a life!’ her eyes were pleading.

‘But not in Pegasus? Why the hell not?’ Rodney was confused and irritated by this.

‘Because I’m in love with someone else and it’s hopeless!’ Jennifer blurted. A look of horror spread across her face as soon as the words left her mouth, followed by something more apologetic. ‘Because if I could just get you away from here, maybe I could forget him and be happy.’

To give her her due, she had the decency to look contrite. Rodney found himself just frozen, processing her words with incredulity.

‘Oh Rodney, I didn’t mean to . . . I do have feelings for you and this other person, well, he isn’t suitable at all, and he isn’t available, and you and I . . . we make _sense._ ’

Rodney just sat heavily on the nearest available perch and laughed until he was completely hysterical.

‘Oh. Well, alrighty then . . . not really how I thought you’d react,’ she said, ‘but it’s good, I guess . . . that you’re not more upset.’

Rodney looked up at Jennifer, at her pretty face and perfect hair and all her perkiness and felt _nothing._

‘I have somewhere to be,’ he said coldly. His hysterics at the irony of the situation had blown through, leaving him empty. As he got to the door, he looked back.

‘You know, Satedans are mostly polyamorous, so if you can get over yourself it’s possible you still stand a chance,’ he said, and then he strode off to the chair room, driven by a sense of urgency he refused to examine.

*** 

He felt the shiver-inducing stomach-lurch of Atlantis going into hyperspace just as he entered the chair room.

‘Hey, Rodney,’ John drawled without even looking over at him, and that was disconcerting.

‘Just how much can you _see_ from there?’ Rodney panicked that perhaps John could snoop all over Atlantis. Had maybe seen his very telling reaction to Jennifer’s outburst.

‘I, er . . . didn’t _see_ you as much as _feel_ you,’ the Colonel said sheepishly. ‘It’s hard to explain.’

‘Oh. Okay, so you don’t . . . you didn’t just get ringside seats in me breaking up with Jennifer.’

John sat bolt upright in the chair and looked at Rodney, his eyes wide.

‘Hey, shouldn’t you be . . .’

‘S’okay. She’s on autopilot. Knows where she’s going. Run that by me again?’ his voice was all drawl and casualness but Rodney was pretty sure that was some sort of front. Well, no secret the Colonel didn’t like Keller.

‘We broke up. She’s in love with Ronon.’

John’s eyes narrowed.

‘It’s okay. She was wrong for me. She had an idea in her head and wanted to fit me to it. Thought she could change me or something. But, I think . . . I think I am the way I am and that’s not likely to change.’

‘It doesn’t _need_ to change,’ John almost-growled. ‘ _You_ don’t need to change. You’re . . .’ he hesitated, and then ground out, ‘. . . perfect. Like you are.’ He was looking at Rodney with his eyes all big and he reminded Rodney way too much of the cat.

‘Oh,’ Rodney said, his voice small. ‘Well, thank you.’ He could feel himself melting round the edges and inwardly cursed the John Sheppard Effect. He pulled himself together and reminded himself that all that charm didn’t mean a damn thing. The man was _dangerous._ He mentally brought the shutters right down on the bits of himself that were going all gooey.

‘Anyway, I need to check how the star drive is holding up, so I should . . .’

‘Rodney?’ Sheppard’s voice was suddenly urgent.

‘What?’

‘Just . . . don’t settle, ok? Never again.’ John’s face was earnest and caring and soft and it confused the heck out of Rodney.

***

‘Welcome back to the Pegasus galaxy, where your enemies drain the life out of you and your allies just incarcerate and execute you,’ Rodney said, his voice edged with panic and fury. There was something particularly terrifying about the sheer ordinariness of the implacable jailors who had taken them from the convivial Seldarans (equally convivial, it turned out, towards the thunder-faced men who carted them away) and through the gate to the chill night of a strange planet with standing stones that lined the mile-long road to a grim stone settlement.

‘You will pay heavily for your crimes against this galaxy,’ one of their jailors had said as he threw them into two adjacent cells. ‘You will not escape justice a second time.’

Teyla had tried her calm negotiation. John had tried his charm. Rodney had tried to offer up his brain in return for his team’s freedom. Ronon . . . well, Ronon very sensibly just glowered silently and watched the futility of their bargaining.

‘You will go to the gallows tomorrow. And nothing you say will change that,’ the man said, almost cheerfully. ‘Enjoy your final sleep.’

Their cells were basic – two hard wooden cots with a skimpy blanket, rough walls and a heavy door with a trapdoor at the bottom for food to be passed in and an impenetrable grill at head height through which they could see out (and presumably be checked upon).

‘You guys okay over there?’ John shouted to his teammates.

‘We are fine, Colonel, for now. But I fail to see a solution to our predicament,’ Teyla’s muffled voice responded.

John paced the room, and Rodney set his mind thinking equally frantically. A familiar pattern for them to fall into, but this time Rodney could feel the pessimistic energy coming off both of them. Maybe because there was a certain justice in what was happening to them, and maybe because of the mundane but impeccable security.

It really felt like this was it.

‘I’m sorry, Rodney,’ John said after a long while, finally sitting heavily down on the cot across from Rodney and catching his gaze. ‘For this, for everything. If I’d just learned to think before acting or speaking a long time ago . . .’

‘We’d have been dead a long time ago if you didn’t act on instinct,’ Rodney insisted. ‘Just like my brain has saved us so many times but also substantially contributed to putting us where we are now. Our greatest assets are our greatest liabilities and all that.’

‘Well, I’m still sorry. And I still wish things had gone differently.’ John said firmly. Then a less certain look passed across his face. ‘Do you think, maybe, if I hadn’t been such an ass, you and I could’ve . . .’ he took a deep breath and seemed to stumble over what he wanted to say. ‘You know, been friends?’ he finished, but Rodney strongly suspected that wasn’t quite what he meant.

‘We are friends, jackass,’ Rodney replied. ‘Good friends. I trust you with my life, and with good reason.’

‘Really?’ John’s face looked upsettingly surprised at this.

Rodney was as surprised to hear himself say that as John was to hear it. When had he lost his mistrust of the Colonel? He remembered back to the parasite and it hit him, way too ridiculously late, that John had become everything you could possibly want in a friend and more.

And really, if they were going to die in the morning, what was there left to lose?

‘John, the thing is . . .’

But the Colonel was distracted – suddenly falling onto his knees and looking at the little trapdoor at the bottom of the door.

‘Hey, d’you reckon a cat could fit through that?’ he asked, suddenly excited.

‘Oh no. Nonono. You are not going to put yourself unarmed, naked and vulnerable in the way of those brutes!’

‘Or we could just sit here and wait to die . . . Rodney, there’s no help coming. We’re out of options. I’m doing this.’

‘This is insane!’ Rodney said unhappily.

‘Look, we’ll make sure I can get through, and if I can, we’ll feed my clothes through so I can get dressed again on the other side. Then I _won’t_ be all naked and vulnerable and you can stop worrying about seeing my shiny white ass!’

Rodney snorted. He’d seen Sheppard’s shiny white ass plenty and had secretly admired it for long enough now, but that was hardly the point. But John wouldn’t be dissuaded, and quick as a flash he’d turned from a full grown man to a pile of clothes on the floor with a scruffy black cat right in the middle of it all. The cat sauntered over to the trapdoor and looked at Rodney expectantly.

Rodney rolled his eyes and sighed, prizing up the flap with his fingernails and holding the little door open. The cat rubbed his cheek over Rodney’s hand and then, flattening himself onto the ground, he started to squeeze through the gap.

It was a much tighter fit than either of them had anticipated, and John’s back legs scrambled against the floor as he pushed himself through, inch by slow inch. But it was working – his fluid body reshaped itself and steadily he oozed through the gap.

A grumpy, booming voice echoed up the passageway outside their cell.

‘Dunno what’s the point of giving ‘em food when we’re going to kill ‘em in the morning,’ he said.

‘It’s polite. It’s civilized.’ The other voice said. ‘It’s tradition to be a little kind to the condemned.’

‘If you say so.’

Rodney panicked. ’Come back in!’ he hissed, and the cat started scrabbling backwards into the room, but then yowled in pain. Rodney stood to look down through the grill and saw the cat’s spiky shoulder blades couldn’t do their magnificent flattening job in reverse – there was no way he could get back into the room.

‘Stop, John! You can’t get back – you need to go through and hide!’

The panicked cat heaved the rest of his body through the trapdoor before Rodney even had a chance to get back on his knees. But it was too late – the cat was trapped in the cul-de-sac passageway that ended right outside their cell, and the men were already here.

‘What’s this?’ the gruff voice said, and Rodney watched John back into the corner, clearly caught. At first, his eyes went big with terror and his scruffy hair began to raise, but then he stopped himself, sat back on his haunches, and cocked his head at the men. The look of innocence was so John Sheppard it made Rodney smirk despite his fear.

‘Awwwww!’ the man’s voice lightened at least an octave and softened immediately. ‘How did you get in here, you sweet thing?’ Cats, of course, had domesticated themselves across the Pegasus galaxy, much as in the Milky Way, so there was nothing particularly unfamiliar about John’s form.

‘Careful, might bite you,’ the other man said.

‘Meeeeeeoooowwwww,’ John said sweetly, as non-threateningly unlike his usual _Rowr!_ as it was possible to get.

‘You’re not going to bite me, are you, little thing?’ the man reached out, and John rubbed his cheek on the man’s outstretched fingers.

Rodney stood frozen, nausea in his gut as a bizarre mix of fear for John and jealousy of the man who was touching _his cat_ warred inside him.

Cat-John did his usual trick of turning over on his back and showing his belly invitingly, and Rodney seethed at what a complete _tart_ he was being.

And then he remembered that he was alone in the cell with an empty pile of clothes. He tore himself away from the sight of Colonel John Sheppard fraternising provocatively with the enemy and grabbed the pile of clothes and boots, stuffing them under the blanket in an attempt to make a body-shape.

Oh god, Sheppard may be thin but unsurprisingly, his empty clothes _in no way_ made a convincingly sized shape under the blanket. Rodney panicked some more, but then he seized on an admittedly _genius_ solution. He made a leg-shaped hump at the bottom of the bed with _all_ the clothes, adding John’s boots to stick out from the end of the blanket. Then he got under the same blanket himself, and onto his hands and knees, forming himself around the imaginary shape of the Colonel. He added in some movements that he hoped looked sufficiently suggestive that he and said Colonel were having as much fun as it’s possible to have in a jail cell on death row.

‘Hur hur hur,’ a voice came through the grill. ‘Looks like our prisoners were feeling a little chilly – come see, Gev.’

‘Hehe, they appear to be warming up nicely there. Don’t stop on our account!’ the other guard called through the grill encouragingly.

If John was being a tart, well, Rodney felt somewhat worse as he writhed his ass provocatively to the increasingly leery taunts of the watchers. He really wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up, or how long the fools would be conned, but they chuckled on and Rodney continued his performance of quite possibly the least sexy sex act in the history of ever.

There were two mild thumps behind him and then the sound of the door opening. Oh godgodgod, he was screwed, he was so screwed, but he desperately tried to keep up his performance, adding in some moans for good measure in the hopes it would put them off their interruption.

‘What the hell, Rodney?’ John’s voice came from behind him, a mixture of amused and scandalized. Rodney sagged in relief, turning to see a naked John Sheppard with two unconscious guards at his feet. He looked completely magnificent. And oh, a tiny bit aroused. Oh god.

Rodney jumped to his feet and stepped a little closer to John, because in doing so, he could see considerably _less_ of him. Then he jabbed a finger into John’s chest accusingly.

‘You’re nobody to talk!’ his voice was a little shrill. ‘Going over onto your back for those men like a common . . .’

John’s eyebrow was going upwards with every syllable, and Rodney had the very good sense to not finish the sentence.

‘I mean, we did what we had to do to survive, and we never need to speak of it again, right?’

Now John just looked amused. ‘Yes, Rodney. Although I can’t help wondering how the hell _that_ was your first thought.’ Rodney blushed, but John saved his embarrassment and any need to answer by continuing, ‘say, how about instead of standing here talking about things that are _never going in the mission report,_ I put on some clothes, while you get their weapons and let Teyla and Ronon out?’

‘Oh. Oh, yes, that’s . . . that’s a good idea.’

‘I do have them occasionally,’ John said with a smirk.

Within moments, they were all running for home.

*** 

It had been a while since Rodney had a midnight visitor, but that night, after they had filed two implausible works of fiction for mission reports and placated an entirely skeptical Teyla and Ronon with a promise to come clean _eventually,_ the cat slunk into Rodney’s room and began pawing at the duvet to be let under the covers.

‘You know what? No. I’m not doing this anymore,’ Rodney said stubbornly, fixing the cat’s gaze with his own steely look. ‘We need to talk about this.’

The cat just stared at him enigmatically.

Rodney grabbed a blanket from under the bed and draped it over the cat.

‘Change,’ he insisted.

The cat just stared some more, and then made a completely unambiguous gesture, pointing behind Rodney with his chin.

‘Okay, okay.’ Rodney turned around, and immediately heard an odd squelchy sound behind him.

‘So what do you wanna talk about?’ John’s voice came from behind him, sounding cautious.

Rodney turned to find a naked John with the blanket draped over his shoulders and folded round into his cross-legged lap. He looked more than a little apprehensive. He also looked good enough to eat, but Rodney filed _that_ little thought away for another time.

‘I need to ask you something. Something personal.’ Rodney racked his brains about how to start this conversation. But his default was to gather information first – so he really needed to know what cards John was holding before proceeding.

‘Go on,’ John said, looking like he was holding his breath.

‘Well, I was wondering if you liked me. I mean, if you might . . . have feelings for me.’

 _Oh god,_ that question was way more exposing than he’d intended it to be, and now Rodney was the one holding his breath.

But John just barked out a peal of laughter at his question.

Rodney went cold all the way through. How could he be so _cruel_? It seemed he hadn’t changed so much after all.

‘Is it so ridiculous that you should like me?’ he said angrily. ‘I think you’d better leave, Colonel.’

‘No wait – oh god Rodney, no, you don’t get it. _Of course_ I have feelings. I’ve been crawling into your bed for three damn years! It just . . . seemed like a bad joke that you wouldn’t _know_ how I feel.’

Rodney tried to process what he was hearing and said nothing.

John scrubbed at his face in frustration.

‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you . . . god, I so desperately never want to hurt you like that again.’

John looked so earnest that Rodney softened. He thought about all the moments of affection he’d seen from John – not from just the cat-form either. Now he mentioned it, it didn’t seem like John had been trying to hide anything. Perhaps he _had_ been a little slow . . .

‘Oh,’ he said, then took a deep breath. ‘Because . . . I suppose what I wanted to tell you was that I do too. Have feelings, I mean. For you.’

Watching John’s face light up at that was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Rodney had seen in quite a long time. He felt his own face drain of tension and melt into something that reflected John’s happiness back at him.

‘See, I’ve been trying to put a smile like that on your face when I wasn’t a cat for such a long time,’ John said, his voice cracking a little. Taking care to keep himself wrapped in the blanket, he moved himself a little closer to Rodney, sitting on the side of the bed next to him. Rodney must have looked apprehensive at that, because John took his hand, gently and carefully.

‘I’d just . . . really like to kiss you. But only if you want me to.’

Rodney just nodded, no breath left to talk. His want outweighed his fear, but his fear was sizeable. He had always imagined kissing John Sheppard to be dangerous as hell.

John’s lips, when they met his, were surprisingly soft. The other man brushed Rodney’s lips oh-so-gently, then pulled back just enough to let Rodney take charge. Which he did, enthusiastically, letting his natural bossiness bleed through, something John responded to with small sighs of pleasure, passionately responding to Rodney’s thorough exploration of his mouth, but allowing (or was it wanting?) Rodney to stay in charge of the kiss.

Rodney’s hands had slipped under the blanket, dislodging it somewhat, and moved around John’s bare torso. The feel of his skin was amazing, but not as gratifying as the way he was melting under Rodney’s touch. After a long while necking like teenagers, John put his head on Rodney’s shoulder, and shivered.

‘Can I get under those covers?’ he asked, all sweetness.

But Rodney felt that fear again. He was still waiting for John to turn into a predator and pounce on him. It didn’t stop him from nodding meekly, though, because who _wouldn’t_ want Col John Sheppard in their bed?

The way John insinuated himself under the covers, discreetly leaving the blanket behind him, reminded Rodney sharply of the cat. Once he was in the bed, John gave Rodney a brief, soft kiss and then turned around, arranging Rodney’s arms around himself carefully, and settling into a little-spoon position with a happy sigh that could almost have been a purr. Rodney’s heart swelled ridiculously at the trust and vulnerability in the gesture.

And that’s when he finally, (quite possibly way later than he should have) took his fear and put it in the past, where it belonged. He pulled John closer against his chest, and planted kisses onto the back of his neck, eliciting more pleased sighs.

‘Love you, Rodney,’ John said in a languid, peaceful voice, and promptly fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've ever seen a cat get hold of valerian tea you'll know that particular scene was not a word of a lie.


End file.
